Regarding Renovations
by LoBot24
Summary: Ilsa contemplating making changes to the Warehouse.  Takes place after the events of Season 2 episode, Ilsa Pucci.


Regarding Renovations

Ilsa as she contemplates making changes to the Warehouse. Takes place shortly after the events of the Season 2 episode, **Ilsa Pucci.**

No copyright infringement intended, I only borrow these characters from time to time.

With a ding the elevator doors opened, and out stepped Ilsa Pucci, billionaire, world philanthropist, and recently, widow. As she walked deeper into the warehouse to get a better look at her latest project, her black heeled Mario Bologna's crunched on left behind broken glass. These windows really were badly in need of being replaced. Ilsa turned in a slow circle, taking in the space. As it had struck her when she had been here before discussing her own case; it was dark and dingy, with that stale air smell, a lot of wood and beat up leather furniture. In short, it screamed men. Men, who had in fact saved her life a short time ago. Grateful, she wanted to do something for them. Financing/redecorating their operations, seemed a way to try to do so. After the death of her husband Marshall, she had been overwhelmed with grief, obligation, and the crush of security. She couldn't go anywhere, or do anything, without 20 people around her at all time. Death threats while not unheard of, had escalated greatly since she became the sole face of the Foundation. To the point where she spent an inordinate amount of time and resources to find the one man she had heard could be the answer to her problems. Found him she did, not quite at the end of the earth, Nepal, but very nearly so. Christopher Chance. Not his real name of course, but in the time spent with him after their initial encounter, it seemed to suit him. His non-game planning ways had indeed risked her life in order to give it back to her. Spanning a Foundation charity event that resulted in her being abducted, then held at gunpoint at a bank in Geneva, where it all culminated in a shoot out and multi-story plunge into a nearby lake. Still ached a bit from that one. She smiled and shook her head. Supposed to be here to take notes on this space, and give it to her design team to work up. Still, she couldn't help but drift. Mr. Chance was an enigma. A former assassin, and a man with so many aliases she wasn't sure if even he recalled what his true origins were. She was a bit disconcerted that she felt an attraction to him. It shouldn't be there, but it was. Every time he was near, particularly when he touched her, set off a chain of reactions.

Lost in her thoughts, Ilsa suddenly realized she had started up the stairs. Stairs that Winston had told her lead up to Mr. Chance's living quarters. Having stopped, she looked up the rest of the stairs. She knew that both Winston and Chance were out, she also knew that going up there would be a breach of etiquette. As she pursed her lips, curiosity trumped courtesy. Perhaps she could gleam more about the man by having a quick look around. It didn't take long for Ilsa to see that Chance was a man who had never stayed in one place for too long. Bits and pieces of his travels were scattered through out. She was drawn to the bookcase, and saw volumes of Sun-Tzu, Caesar, Hannibal, and Alexander The Great. She was a bit surprised to see books on Dharmic philosophy and on the Verdic religion. Then again, she had found him at an ashram. Ilsa found her fingertips had brushed along the spines of his books. A small crease of a frown passed between her eyebrows as she realized what she had been doing. What it is about this man? He's a killer, Ilsa. A killer with a conscience, she quickly amended. She did believe him when he said he wanted redemption. That is in part why she was here, she felt herself drawn to him and his path. She turned to a sound that came off the main room, following it she came to an opening. She could make out hanging clothes. She knew where she was, but what was that sound? It seemed as if it were coming from floor level. Getting down to be closer to the sounds source, she suddenly found herself face to nose with a dog. Promptly, there came a low and menacing growl from the animal.

Nervously, Ilsa began to croon, "Good dog. That's it, absolutely no need to bite the nice, snooping lady." At that, the growling stopped, but the teeth were being prominently displayed. Ilsa changed tactics. "Alright, if you let me out of here, I promise to get you the best steak in this city."

Carmine stopped showing his teeth. With a cock of his head, he licked his big chops. At the sound of a very male throat having cleared itself, Ilsa turned her head in the direction of that noise. Bullocks, she thought, Chance. With teeth tugging at her lower lip, "This doesn't look very good, does it?" Chance let his eyes wander over the expanse of exposed leg, over the shapely backside, and took note of the elegant arch of her back.

"Oh I don't know, looks pretty good from here." A half grin and a dimple that should be outlawed, Ilsa blushed for the first time since perhaps she had been a young girl. Luckily, she thought, the closet was dimly lit. Oh yes the closet, _his _closet. He'll want an explanation. No sooner had she thought it, he voiced it. "Mrs. Pucci, I would love to know why a world famous billionaire is on her hands and knees in my closet, bribing my dog." The grin and dimple deepened, as did the blush. Damn.

~fin

**Authors Note: Yes, my first attempt at Human Target fic. I do so enjoy the show, and like you, hope it continues. Regardless, I hope to write more HT stories in the future. **


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